


excess adrenaline

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Declarations, Coulson has a thing for Skye's voice this is canon, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Late at Night, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, post episode 2x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2621597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The impulse to carve is gone, but that doesn't mean Coulson feels fine.</p>
<p>(Post-2x07 smut)</p>
            </blockquote>





	excess adrenaline

This is the second night it happens.

It's not that it worries him, but it's a bit uncomfortable.

He hadn't thought about something like this, he imagined when it was over it would be over, no reminders.

Two days out of the control of whatever was invading his mind and he still shows up in his office in the middle of the night, staring at the immaculate wall like he somehow still expects to get that feeling, that unstoppable drive to carve. He's been living with it for so long. Now it almost feels like something is missing, like there's a hole somewhere, when it doesn't come.

And it's not just that he is here again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He can see himself, all those nights and days, and he feels it – he _feels_ it. His muscles are no longer aching like they used to but he feels it. He is here again, trapped in his own mind. He's not carving but a part of him is stuck in those overlapping memories, the hundreds of times he did it. He's paralyzed for a moment, cold sweat running down his back, soaking through his t-shirt. His muscles knot viciously, waiting for something.

He sighs.

It's okay. This is nothing, really.

It's just tiresome in a different way.

"You said you were done with this," Skye says.

He didn't see her come in.

"It's not that," he reassures her, and quick.

She crosses her arms. She's wearing sweatpants and a comfortable sweater, hair done up in a hurry, it's weird that Coulson knows that's what she sleeps in, but they've grown closer in weird ways lately.

"Then what are you doing up and staring at that wall again?" Skye asks, impatient with worry.

"I've spent months doing this," he tells her. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was happening until now that Skye asks. "My body is wired to expect me to do it. It's an excess of adrenaline. It's turned off in my head but..."

"You've gone cold turkey and your body is not happy," she says.

It's slightly worse than that, but he doesn't tell her.

She can tell, anyway.

"Coulson?"

He doesn't answer. He's staring at the wall. His muscles knot, painfully.

"Do you hear me? Hello?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he says. He doesn't want to worry her. It'll pass. He just has to wait it out. It's pure chemistry, of course. Habit and chemistry.

He listens to Skye walking up to his side.

"Don't worry me like that," she says. She looks at him, the state of him, glacing over his back and arms. "You're sweating. Why are you sweating?"

"I'm not – it's not the compulson. I was just –"

"Having a flashback," Skye finishes, certain of it.

He turns to her. That's a pretty quick catch and he has to stop his profiler's side before it becomes interested in her like that again.

"Something like that," he says, giving her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

Skye nods. "You've been doing this for months. It makes sense. It's just stress. Right?"

She must have been so worried, Coulson realizes. So scared. She didn't deserve that.

"Stress," he repeats.

It feels uncomfortable under his skin. The tips of his fingers. He wishes he could turn it off.

Skye touches his arm. It's meant to be comforting but Coulson feels it like a jolt of electricity. His body is too sensitive right now. 

"Just breathe slowly," she says. "You're fine."

The last few days have been a lesson on how to put himself in Skye's hands. He doesn't mind it going on a bit longer. He knows how unfair he's been, leaning on her too much, more than she should be expected to stand. He's still doing that.

"Look at the wall," Skye tells him. "It's clean. You're fine. It's over."

Her voice.

He remembers her voice in the middle of a nightmare.

It's over, he repeats. She is right. His muscles hurt a bit less, his hands relax.

He keeps breathing and yes, it passes. It was the same yesterday, except Skye's presence has made it quicker, a bit less painful. It was a pretty simple trick – _just breathe_ – but maybe he needed to hear it from her.

He just has to wait it out.

He's fine.

It's over.

 

 

There's still an edge, minutes later, an itch he can't seem to scratch. Annoying. But he is not longer paralyzed. Skye pours him a glass of water. She looks a bit flushed when she gives it to him, embarrassed, like she fears she might be overstepping some boundary here.

"Thanks," Coulson says.

"It's okay. You should take it easy for a few days."

"I'm trying," he admits. Not that they can afford it, with the kind of lives they live.

"Good."

She walks back to his desk, starts fidgeting with the items on it, rearranging his pens.

"Can't sleep either?" he asks.

"Well, let's see if _you_ can sleep when the psycho who's stalking you escapes from custody," she shrugs, her back turned to Coulson.

He looks down. He doesn't have any reassuring words for Skye, not beyond his usual ineffectual _we'll find him_. This is on him. He made that call. He keeps putting her at risk. He wants to walk to her and touch her shoulder maybe, like she touched his arm, try to comfort her. It'd feel like a lie.

Skye turns around. There's a soft smile on her lips.

"Sorry," she says. "We'll find him. I know it's not your fault. I'll be fine."

"Just... stress too?" he asks, pressing his lips together.

She takes a couple of steps towards him, smiling a bit.

"You could call it that," she says.

She shrugs again, hands skimming over her hips, and the gesture lifts her sweater slightly so that strip of skin on her stomach is exposed to the view. Coulson doesn't mean to stare, can't help it, can't help but notice the pale lines of her scars over darker skin for a moment. Skye catches him looking. She drops her shoulders, covering the area again, quickly, like she's the one at fault here.

"Skye," he calls, walking towards her.

"What?"

He grabs her waist, pushing her, backing her again, as he shoves their mouths together. His thumb brushes over the skin on her hip, again exposed when her sweater rolls up. Skye makes a surprised sound when he slips his tongue inside her mouth but she is not rejecting the kiss.

Coulson wonders what the hell he's doing. Something you'll regret later, a voice inside him says. But then Skye is wrapping her fingers around his bare arm, drawing him closer to her as she starts kissing back. Is it alarming that she is kissing him back? It should be. It's Skye, she shouldn't do that. He can taste his own sweat on her lips already. Still that itch that won't go away. But his muscles are staring to come undone, pressed against her body. He opens his eyes a moment as he bites her lower lip. Skyes eyes are half closed, a string of wonderful noises staring to form at the back of her throat. He wants to touch her hair, pull it down, touch her face. But his hands are too busy gripping her hips, digging his fingers into her, holding her in place. She moans against almost bruising pressure. She moans and Coulson swallows the sound.

They should be talking about this, not just kissing each other like there's no tomorrow. Specially now that _there is_ a tomorrow. Coulson wonders why now, why tonight. His body doesn't care for answers. Skye spreading one hand over his back, her mouth as hot and urgent as his own.

When he has her against the desk he almost tears her blue sweater off her in a rush. The tank top she is wearing underneath is thin and Coulson lifts one hand to her breast, kneading experimentally, teasing her nipple through the fabric. "Ohmygod," he hears Skye say, sliding her mouth against his neck. Her whole body vibrates under his touch, greedy. This is still not enough. He is still searching for something, something more.

He works the laces of her pajama pants with difficulty, shoving his hand under the waistband. He pushes her underwear aside and slips two fingers into her. Skye closes her eyes for a moment and it gives Coulson some peace of mind when he finds she's already wet, for him, because he feels like in a fever. He believes she wants this, but how can be sure of anything tonight. Then Skye is kissing him, drawing her legs apart to give him better access. He pursues that feeling, throws himself into it, fucking her fast with his fingers. It's so good, it's not enough yet.

"Coulson, Coulson, slow down."

He freezes, then pulls out of her, thinking he might be hurting her. "I'm sorry, I –"

She shakes her head, giving him a shy smile.

"No, no, it's okay. Just... slow down."

She covers his hands with hers, guiding him, making him go slower as he starts touching her again, awkwardly at first, full of tension as he looks up and sees her eyes. Then it gets good again and a bit of the edge is taken off because Skye is telling him what to do, _guiding him_ , and he can be patient if that's what she needs, it doesn't hurt so much. He learns her rhythms. Her breath starts hitching and she lets a little moan as she urges him to pick up the pace, fingers clutching his as he thumbs her clit. It's good, it's so good and entirely _not enough_.

"Skye," he begs. "I need..."

"Okay, yeah, okay," she mutters to herself before grabbing Coulson's wrist and pulling her hand away.

She steps out of her clothes helpfully if not graciously. Coulson can hardly bear to look at her. She sits on the desk again, pulling at Coulson's clothes.

He drops wet, sweaty kisses on her forehead as Skye shoves his pants and underwear down. 

"Ah, _fuck_ ," he mutters when she starts stroking him. It's been quite a while since anyone other than himself has touched him like this – he rushes into the touch, gets restless against her fingers, urges Skye to do something, anything, not sure what. Skye gets the hint and pushes his clothes all the way down his hips. Coulson lets them pool around his ankles, so inelegant and he is beyond caring. About almost anything, except the way Skye is grabbing him, twisting her hand into his t-shirt and pulling him towards her, lining their bodies together. 

Coulson can even spare one last thought to sanity and technicalities.

"Are you...?" he starts, swallowing hard when he thinks he can't finish.

Skye nods. "Covered."

He tries not to push all the way in immediately but it's almost impossible. Skye closes her eyes tightly shut, making Coulson groan when her fingernails dig into his ass. She clenches around him for a moment and it's awful and perfect.

"Coulson..." she says, face buried into his neck, mouth touching his skin. He's not sure if she calls him to stop him or to urge him on. He's sure he likes how his name sounds on her lips. He feels her stretch around him, relax, breathe. He thinks that means he can move – he thrusts shallowly, not as he would want to. 

"More," he hears Skye say.

"Yes," he hears her say, more softly.

Her voice.

He remembers her voice.

He tries to kiss her but the angle is all wrong, he is moving, desperate for something, fucking her hard and deep, and his mouth slides over her jaw, her neck. He normally prides himself on being a careful, patient lover. But is he even that person anymore? Tahiti changed a lot of things. He wonders what Skye changed too. But he wants her to be happy, he wants her to want this.

"Is it –?"

"It's good, Coulson. It's _good_."

He thinks he might come from hearing Skye say it's good, disgracefully, so he forces himself to slow down, which works for her too, as he tries to put a bit more of technique into it, not just this raw helpless rush. He rolls his hips. She looks up at him and smiles. He thinks he might be in love with Skye. He is, he is – 

"Fuck," she mutters as he hits a sweet spot.

He slides his cock almost completely out before pushing into her again, fast and desperate, sending Skye over the edge. He watches her come, throwing her head back for a moment and then dropping it against his shoulder, muffling her whimper into the fabric of his t-shirt. He grabs her hips tight, holding her to him, and in a couple of needy thrusts he is done too.

 

 

It feels like a century has passed, afterwards, and maybe he doesn't want to come back, to think, to consider the repercussions, the ramifications, the _what the fuck have you done_. His body still sings, but it's different now – he wants to stop himself, but for different reasons. He rests, sitting on the floor, back against desk. His breathing, labored, matches Skye's now. She has somehow recovered her pajama pants but she's still in her thin undershirt, skin exposed and glistening with sweat. She smells of sex, of them. She has her eyes closed and her head thrown back, and her neck... Coulson would find the picture still arousing if he wasn't so frightened.

"This is a mess," he says.

Skye opens her eyes, turns her face towards him.

"You don't say."

He sighs, runs his hand through his hair. 

"Doesn't anything scare you?"

"A lot of things scare me," she says, frowning, maybe offended. "You, these past few weeks, scared me. I was terrified of you turning into a murderer like Derik, or going crazy, or dying, or just being in pain. I couldn't – I was paralyzed. Sorry I couldn't–"

She stops herself, pressing her lips together in frustration.

He shakes his head. "There's no way I'd be here right now without your help."

She looks away for a moment, embarrassed.

"Well, vice that versa many times in the past. So... whatever this mess is, it's a lot less scary than watching you get into the torture machine from hell. No, I'm not worried about this."

She touches his wrist cautiously.

"I'm glad I don't have to be scared about what's going to happen to you anymore," she explains, "but... it's not something I can turn off that easily."

He understands. Her need, how it came to match his, it makes sense. "You also had an excess of adrenaline."

She nods. Then she gets this worried expression on her face.

"Is that why...?" she starts, dropping her gaze for a moment, and slipping her hand away from Coulson's arm. "Is that the reason why you kissed me? Why we...?"

"It's _a_ reason," he replies. "There are others. I intend to explore them."

She widens her eyes at him. "Does that mean you are going to romance me or something?"

"I plan to."

It sounds ridiculous.

They both chuckle, embarrassed for themselves.

"I'm sorry, Skye," Coulson says, at least happy that her name sounds a little different when he says it now, intimate in a different way. "I'm normally much better at this. I guess I'm out of practice."

"That's okay, I'm out of practice too. And the last guy who was interested was a serial killer. So. You have a big advantage."

Coulson narrows his eyes at her, worried, but Skye just shakes her head a bit and leans to kiss his cheek.

His body is still on fire but in a different way.

Skye stretches her legs. "God, I'm so tired."

"You want to go to bed?" he asks.

"Is that an offer?"

"Yes, of course," he says. He doesn't want to be presumptuous, but he thinks maybe Skye would feel safer with him there. "If you think that would help."

She grabs her knees, pulls them closer to her body again.

"I don't know if it would help but... I _want_ to."

"Good enough for me."

He leans over, pressing his mouth against hers for a moment.

This is a mess, he thinks. Smiling when Skye opens her mouth so eagerly.

He pulls back, looking at her face. Strands of hair have fallen against her cheeks, slipped from the comfortable knot. Coulson forgets if he did that, if he got to thread his fingers through, in the middle of it all.

"So you tell me when this whole romancing thing starts," Skye says. "Or has it already started? I can't tell."

Coulson remembers what Hunter said about Skye frustrating him.

_Frustrating_ is not the word he would use.

He kisses her again.


End file.
